The inevitable meeting between two seperate polarities
by Soto Aikido
Summary: She didn't feel like she had infiltrated his life; in her opinion, it was the other way round. How a series of coincidences brings Amaya and Kurama closer, and how Amaya very much would have wanted the opposite. OC/Kurama
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Chapter one; Inevitable meeting between two polarities

"I think I killed it! God, I must have!" She started to sob into her hands, bent over the cage holding the motionless dwarf hamster.  
"Of course you didn't," A classmate tried to reassure her, placing a soft hand onto her shoulder. She whipped her head back to glare at him like a rattlesnake.  
"Do not lie to me," she said in all force, before she shoved his arm from her shoulder.

She turned her attention back to the cage and the dead creature lying inside of it. It had been named Kamikaze, as it had this strange habit to climb the ceiling of his cage. Now it would never climb ever again. Another sob raked her body, and her shoulders shook with unsuppressed grief. She'd killed it.

It was the teacher who put a stop to the situation, ascertaining that the creature had died before she could even put her hands on it. After the frumpy teacher's words, and the distinct ring of truth they held, those that had gathered around her in a ring, trudged back to their seats.

Apparently it wasn't so exciting to be there any longer if she hadn't killed the poor thing. Everyone left, except the classmate who'd tried to comfort her ten minutes earlier. "I told you," he said, his voice thrumming with underlying smugness. Or maybe not. Maybe it was filled with a quiet confidence instead. Shuichi was never smug.

The classmate was Shuichi, coldly flawless in a way that marvelled a lot of woman. He had a lot of admirers, and why not? His features were aesthetically pleasing - red, European hair, green, European eyes - and exotic to the Japanese.

That was because the prominent colouring of those of Japanese descent happened to be brown. Brown hair, brown eyes, lightly coloured skin. Amaya herself preferred Asian features, but the European colouring wasn't so bad in itself. She swiped at her eyes, starting to feel the sting of humiliation. He was just too pretty - there was no way she could compete.

She tried to dismiss it, forcing a smile on her lips that was rough at the edges.  
"Yes, yes - I should have know." And her words were meant to draw upon his ire - if he wasn't so cool tempered all the time, she'd feel like ugly next to him. As it where, he didn't even take the bait, leaving her left feeling like a petulant child.

"No, you couldn't have, Amaya-san. You were distraught, and I know how difficult it is to keep your head in such an emotionally charged situation." His eyes fixed upon hers, simply radiating with understanding

She hated the look - it did not suit him. Grabbing the last of her dignity, she gave him a stiff bow.  
"My apologies - I was unduly rude to you. Is there a way I can make it up to you?" and then, before he could reply one way or the other, the teacher clicked his tongue menacingly from behind them. "Get back to work, the both of you," he said, unsympathetically. The two classmates shared a look, before Shuichi complied to the command. With a last lingering look at his back, Amaya returned to her second row seat.

Eventually, classes ended, and Amaya hurried towards the school gates, where she and Shuichi had decided to meet up. They'd come together and talked in the interval between the change in classes, and Amaya had temped him with an ice coffee as her apology for her rebuke against his concern. That was a rather bad social faux pass in Japanese culture, after all, so he'd accepted; probably because he took mercy on her.

Doing otherwise meant he'd not forgiven her, and that would have meant a rather harsh insult on Amaya's regard. She doubted he actually cared about the ice coffee, and if he did, he could just as easily go buy himself one. As far as Amaya knew, his family wasn't the most frugal of kinds, considering he attended Meiou.

After a minute's waiting, Shuichi met up with her.

"Let's go," Amaya suggested, already taking a step in the direction of the coffee shop, a few blocks away. He followed behind her as she travelled across the pavement, turned left at an intersection, continued through a junction and passed many shops as they entered the market place. Eventually, they came upon the coffee shop and signalled for Shuichi to stop walking.

He did so, gazing at the TL letters signifying the shop to be called Hot Caramel. It did not inspire much confidence. Amaya entered the coffee shop, keeping the door opening for Shuichi to slip in through. They found a table at the window. Amaya folded her legs beneath her seat, leaning backwar- ds into the cool plush interior.

"I used to have dwarf hamsters myself, but all of them died within months of the other," she excused herself, taking in his lean folded hands. They were piano's hands. She felt that same envy spark her heart and pursed her lips, disappointed at her own reaction.  
"Is that the reason for your grief?" Shuichi asked, unconcerned. "And certainty you were to blame?"

She shrugged with a lift of her broad shoulders and returned to studying her own fingers. They were long, also, and elegantly curved upwards at the tips. Her brother had the same fingers. It was probably genetics that were to blame. At least she could say she had violin's hands.

He sipped his ice coffee thoughtfully, as she played with the frayed edges of her sleeve, readjusting her folded legs now and then, restless. Shuichi seemed pleased, if his creased eyes and the curved edges of his lips indicated it correctly. His eyes, when not at school, seemed more alive, somehow. She wondered whether there was a reason for that. School was bearable, but only with her friends. Amaya scuffed the toe of her boot against one of the supports of her chair.

She wondered whether he had any friends.  
After another moment of awkward silence, Amaya couldn't bear it any longer. It slipped from her throat, unhindered by her own inhibitions - and she found herself blurting, "Do you have any friends?" Then her face paled, ashen, at what she had just inadvertently implied.

She quickly, wildly, began gesture to placate him. "Not that I mean you don't have any," she said, but stopped as Shuichi interjected.  
"No, not particularly. Why?" He actually seemed curious for her reasoning. Did this teen feel no shame? It would seem so. She sure would have felt embarrassed admitting to being friendless, if she were in his shoes.

"Because," she trailed off, her jaw tightening.  
"Because?" he questioned, expectant ghost green eyes aimed in her direction. She played with the spoon of her drink, tapping it against the side of the glass, avoiding his gaze until she couldn't bear it no longer.

"You don't seem very happy. At school, I mean - rather, you seem bored. Like everything is tedious to you." Of course, that could be attributed to his status as genius, except that school wasn't all about education. It was also about socialising - about gaining the necessary amount of social skills before being released into the wild. Her words seemed to strike a note in him, as his expression changed quite jarringly, green eyes blossoming in shock.

"You noticed?" he questioned her, as his hands tightened around the width of his glass.  
"Well, yes. It's rather noticeable," she told him, because it was.

"Noticeable?" he mumbled to himself, as his eyes became distant. Good, as she'd been starting to feel uncomfortable underneath his gaze. Amaya dropped her gaze to the scar spiralling it's way across her palm, twisting the spoon in her hands.

"You radiate very little emotion when in school," she explained at his anticipatory silence. "Almost like you're on autopilot - like it's that easy to you. I thought that was just your nature, at first. Just that you were a cool natured person, and didn't care a lot about things. Now that we're outside, though - it's like I'm talking to another person. You emote a lot, out here."

There was another silence after her words, but it wasn't tense. She felt like she could breath easier. Gathering her courage, she peeked up at him. His face had smoothed in contemplation, though it was obvious from the way his eyes weren't glazing over, that his attention was still fixed upon her.

Finally, he spoke. "How can I change it?" And she glanced at him, a soundless question hidden in her frown. "How can I make it seem like I am enjoying myself at school?" She took careful note that he was not elaborating his reasons for asking, and started to massage her muscles, which had started to grow stiff.

"Well, the easiest way would be to make a few companions who make you happy. Of course, if that's not possible, you could take a handheld game console with you to play on during breaks. That always makes me happy. Alternatively, you could venture inside the library now and then, read some books, enjoy yourself. There's many ways your school experience can be uplifted."

She felt a smile widen her cheeks, at the way he seemed to be silently memorizing what she was saying. The thought that he'd maybe take a few of her suggestions in consideration gave her such a kick.

She continued on. "You could skip - but that would be bad for your reputation, so ignore that. There's clubs you can join that take place during school hours. Sports clubs, art clubs, clubs of any kind. I myself am in the drama club and the gardening club at the same time - " he interrupted her monologue in a whisper of

"Gardening club?" and she shifted, rubbing the nape of her neck.  
"Yeah. It's not very popular - probably because it's not the most active club there is. You thinking of joining?" That would surprise her, as she'd not realized that he liked gardening. Her mind spat out another reason for him to join - that he wanted to be in the same club as her - but the thought was so laughable she immediately dismissed it.

He nodded his head, eyes suspiciously bright. Huh. Maybe he did like gardening (she ignored the tiny stab of disappointment with the ease of plenty of practise).  
"Still though, I dunno how you didn't think of it before. The clubs are often written about in the school's newspaper; the one you're sent every other week." He mustn't read them, hm. Also a bit unexpected, all in all.

"Amaya," he said, leaning forwards avidly, "How do I sign up for it?"  
She didn't exactly know, since she wasn't the club's president or anything. That dubious honour went to Mikasa, the boy with the girl's name. So she told him that he'd probably have to contact Mikasa, and he nodded, all serious. He drank the last of his ice coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer; I don't own.

Chapter two: Coincidence/or inevitability?

"So, butter, eggs, flour, and what else?" Amaya asked as she noted down the three groceries onto her list - a scrap of paper that already had eight other words written on it. "Grape and orange Fanta," Tsubari told her as she flipped the pages of her magazine, attention obviously focused elsewhere.

Amaya shook her head at how distracted she was being, especially considering it was her mother who wished for the groceries to be done. "Alright then," she sighed, and scooped up her handbag. She should be able to carry most of the groceries in the carrier bag. "I'll be off." She waited expectantly for her mother's dismissive twirl of a wave and then stepped out of the building and onto the sidewalk.

She heaved another sigh, and began her trip towards the supermarket. She was half way there, and enjoying the cool breeze, when a woman abruptly collapsed on the area a few meters ahead of her. She froze in indecision - surely someone else would help her - ? - but nobody in the crowd did.

She'd read about this before. The crowd effect. Nobody would help as they would all think it as someone else's problem. Her lips thinned as she made a decision and she marched towards the woman. She wasn't about to let some silly crowd effect manipulate her into allowing this woman to possible die.

She crouched down next to the woman, and gently brushed the woman's hair aside so she could take her pulse. Meanwhile, her other hand searched through her handbag for her mobile phone. She called the emergency line after ascertaining the woman's alive - but unconscious - state of being.

Rapidly rattling the address of the street, she ascertained that the woman was unconscious, that she didn't seem to have any visible wounds, but that her lips were flecked with blood so the cause was probably internal. She stayed on the line for the ambulance to come and, worried, ended up coming along to the hospital. There, she ensconced herself in the waiting hall, stringing her hands together, a stress headache starting to build up. She massaged her temples, frowning deeply.

It turned out that the woman had to stay in the hospital for them to run some more tests, but that she'd passed the danger threshold. It turned out, too, that the woman's name was Shiori and she was ever so grateful. Amaya found herself standing at the woman's bedside as she offered her money. She reacted in the only way she could; offended.

Shiori, with a flicker of her lashes, quickly realized her mistake and retracted her offer. Shiori attempted to smile. "Whenever there is a problem, you can come to me," is what she decided instead. Amaya returned the smile, hunching her shoulders a bit as she felt awkward. "Ah, yes, if you're sure." When she was able, she fled the room like the devil himself was on her heels.

She'd totally forgotten to call Tsubari about what was keeping her, so when she returned home, it was to the woman's anger. Tsubari had her arm crossed, and was tapping her foot, impatient as hell. Amaya pre-empted her before she could begin her scolding. "Before you ask, I had to call the emergency number for a woman who'd collapsed." She showed her her phone as proof.

Tsubari took it, scrolling through the last called numbers, face impassive. "And the groceries?" she asked, placing the phone on one of the shelves of the bookcase. She returned to the couch, walking past the bookcase to elegantly seat herself.

She opened the magazine with a flick of her wrist, and over them, arched one eyebrow in expectation. Ah yes. Of course, Tsubari would be so selfish as to bid Amaya to take a second trip to the supermarket after the hectic day she had.

"I will go get them," Amaya said, voice trembling with unexpressed bitterness. She turned on her heel - "Don't wait for me." She forced herself to march out into the hallway and then onto the pavement. Ugh. She didn't want to go shopping - it was already starting to grow dark.

She strolled up the hill, taking in the sights. There weren't a lot of people outside. It was quite deserted. Fortunately, the supermarket was open 24/7 so she should still make it in time before the doors shut. She entered the double doors, slipping the crinkled list out of her pocket.

While she was walking back home, she bumped into someone's chest. Correction. She bumped into Shuuichi's chest. "Ouch," she muttered lowly, scrubbing a hand over her red forehead, after she took a step away from him. "Oh," he stated, looking quite distracted. He still had enough of his wits about him to hand her his handkerchief to place on the wound.

"Thanks. Well, I'll be going then," she attempted to sidestep him, as it was already late and she wanted to go home, thank you very much. Instead, however, a careful hand circled her wrist and prevented her from doing so.

"My mother collapsed," he blurted out of the blue. He smiled, but it was half hearted at best. "I heard you saved her."  
She shook her head, removing his grip from her wrist with a pinch of her nails. "Not me, specifically. I just called the ambulance, so it where the paramedics who saved her." But he wouldn't take her modesty. "If you weren't there, it's possible she would have died of cardiac arrest. So you did safe her. You saved Shiori." And now there were starry eyes focused on her. Awkward. "Maybe I did," she muttered in defeat as he clasped their hands together, his wish to somehow make it up to her very clear. He must love his mother a lot.

"Say the word," Shuuichi promised, "And I'll make any wish of yours come true. Any wish. Just say it."  
He looked at her with wide eyes as if expecting to see gratitude for his strange actions. She gazed back at him uncertainly, before attempting to sidle out of his grip. "Yes, sure, whatever you say. I just want to go through my day normally for now, okay?" He looked like he was reluctant to allow her to go on her way. She hadn't realized how crazy he was, but now it was becoming quite clear.

"We'll see each-other at school tomorrow?" she pointedly reminded. "We could always resume this conversation then." His green eyes glittered oddly, but he finally released his grip from her. She could feel his gaze digging in her spine as she turned away from him back onto the road home. Her skin crawled. Suddenly, he wasn't as desirable as usual.

She felt she'd had a look under his façade. It was not a particularly healthy peek. Once home, she dumped her groceries inside her kitchen, before she removed herself from the parlour to her room. She huddled underneath her covers as sleep took over her senses like a heavy blanket. She was soon asleep.

Over the next week it became clear that Shuuichi wasn't just going to forget about her deed. He paid her far more attention than he had before, and he volunteered to hold her bags for her, and would often suggest they team up for team exercises. Amaya felt like she had been forced into the twilight zone, because of how out of character Shuuichi was acting around her now.

"Seriously, I don't need to be picked first for gym," she muttered rather bitterly as she took her place next to Shuuichi, whom been chosen as one of the group's leaders. They were going to play volleyball. Amaya wasn't especially good at the sport, but supposed that she could at least hold her own against her classmates.

It wasn't like they were the best at the sport either. She didn't wish for popularity though, so holding her own was fine. Shuuichi may have not gotten that memo, however, since over the course of the game he inexplicably guided her to the most advantageous of places to receive, pass or throw the ball. At first, Shuuichi's need to reward her for finding his mother had been cute, but now it was just overkill.

She met him in the hallway after the ballgame, furiously snatching a hold of his collar to cage him between the wall and her.  
"You need to stop!" she brutally advised, "This has gone on for long enough. Everyone's noticing, Shuuichi, how strange you're acting. They could think I've done something; that I've tricked you into becoming my man slave!" She shook her fist full of the bunched up fabric of his stiff collar.

"You don't need to do this for me; I'll give you my wish soon, so wait until then to show your appreciation. Okay? Do you understand?"  
She stressed the last vowels of the sentence, eyes wild eyed as they were caught by his calm green ones. For once, despite how she was holding them there, it felt like it was Shuuchi who was in control.

"And when would that be?" he voiced his skeptism, reaching a hand around her to pry loose her fingers from his collar. "I don't have until you've made up your mind. Either I treat you as I've been doing so far, or you tell me your wish, right now, right at the second. "

She couldn't tear her eyes away, Shuuichi's ones drawing hers like magnets. She couldn't do it. She licked her chap lips, and tried to at least let words escape her sandpaper throat. They wouldn't bubble up, no matter how hard she tried. He seemed to take her silence as an answer, shrugging off her hands from the proximity of his neck.

"Well then, shall I carry your bag for you?" he shot the bag at her feet a measuring look. She gaped at him for that.  
"NO! Alright, okay? Fine! So you want me to tell me your wish? Well, I'll give you one!" She didn't want anything from him except for his dismissal. While that was so, she found that that was not what escaped her throat.

Not the true wish, no, but a fallacy of one. One that could not be granted, even if it was through Shuuichi's means.  
"I hate my mortality! I hate, hate, hate it! I'm always scared of dying, but I'm scared more than that of growing old! I wouldn't be able to bear it! It's passed my mind that I could just kill myself before I come to that point, but I'm an atheist. There isn't any afterlife I believe in."

And her confession was the truth. She'd thought of this many times in the past, though she'd never told anyone. She knew her cousin felt the same way. The uncertainty of death and the prospect of old age was terrifying. From Shuuchi's widened eyes and parted lips he hadn't been expecting that. She felt a brief sense of triumph; that she was able to knock him at least this much of balance.

She took in a deep, gulping breath. "You hear? I didn't tell you of my wish because it's unachievable! Now, leave me alone!" She turned on her heel and careened down the hallway before he could reply to the bombshell she'd just left him with. After she turned the corner, she stopped and pressed herself flat against the wall. She couldn't hear any signs that he'd followed her. Good. Maybe it had finally stuck in his stubborn head that he was nothing but an inconvenience with his recent actions. She straightened her back and went to leave the campus, for real this time.

She was at home, hugging a silk cushion to her chest, nothing but a china set of boiling tea keeping her company. She'd always though her fear was silly. It seemed shallow of her that she didn't want to grow old, as shallow as her cousin and mother were. And she hated being like either of them, in any case. At least her reason had very little to do with keeping her beauty. Her cousin, she knew, was a model just like mother was. Both of them would be left without a job when they grew older and more wrinkly. \

She could understand if the prospect of losing their jobs was why the both of them wished to keep their beauty. She knew, however, that it was not. It was just pure vanity. She rubbed the nice velveteen plush of the cushion's embroidery. She didn't want to grow old because she didn't want to loose her mobility or her mind. That would mean a loss of control.

She wouldn't be able to cope with either of those things. And, yes okay, she didn't want to lose her current tolerable looks. She liked the face she saw in the mirror each day; it would be a shame if a stranger replaced it. That only played a small part in her fear, though. Or so she liked to think. Heaving a sigh that deflated her whole body, she shifted her arm around the cushion so she could take a sip of the china cup's contents. Mm. Green tea.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Chapter three; Prelude/Venus flytrap

"You really should model, you know?" Hiroto insisted, tucking a strand of her blonde bleached hair behind her ear. Her cousin looked like every other face on a billboard which you could see on the street. "Mom would stop picking on you." Contrary to Amaya, she actually seemed natural while calling her aunt mother; and that while Amaya was the woman's real child.

They were holding this conversation in Hiroto's flat, who, despite her overflowing bank account, preferred to live fairly minimalistic. That might have been admirable, if it wasn't simply because Hiroto was stingy as hell and didn't wish to spend any of her money, not even on herself. She had her 'escorts' for that, a new one every week. Amaya was unwillingly glad that Tsubari had outgrown that phase in life.

"Mom would pick on me regardless," Amaya answered, her voice as flat as her eyes, as she adjusted her grip on the china cup. It was a nice cup, a present from Tsubari, for when she'd first entered their shared business. Amaya skimmed her short cut nail over the faded cherry blossom depicted on the flawless porcelain. She truly believed what she said; Tsubari was just a sadist.

She heaved a sigh, flicking an unruly strand of her hair from out of her eyes. "Besides, my looks are tolerable at the most," Though that wasn't totally true. Amaya basically looked like a clone of her father, who'd been called 'very handsome,' once upon a time, before those looks of his had been ruined due to undue stress of living with the woman he had gotten pregnant. This had earned him a trip to an early grave. Amaya didn't blame him.

"Ah, Aya-kun, even you know that is untrue." Hiroto enforced her words with a wag of her perfectly manicured finger, smiling indulgently from over the rim of her cup. Amaya's cousin took her coffee black because her tastes were bland as hell, and tended towards the bitter side of things. Amaya stared at her image reflected back from the contents of her own cup. She didn't drink coffee at all.

"Don't call me Aya-kun," Amaya suggested instead after the prerequisite awkward silence had passed. She couldn't exactly dispel the sting of truth scenting those words of Hiroto, after all. Besides, Amaya actually did like looking nice and well cared for. Still, keeping it clean and simple was for the best. It was Shuuichi's prettiness that she had first held against him too, come to think of it. She took a sip of her scolding tea to distract herself from these thoughts of hers.

"Careful," Hiroto advised, laying her powdered hand onto Amaya's wrist, onto the hand that was holding onto her cup. The result was that Amaya was temporarily gripped with the irrational urge to let go of the handle and allow hot tea to splash over the both of them, shattering the fine china into innumerable pieces which could never be fitted back together again. This urge passed by the time Hiroto had retracted back her limb to her side of the translucent glass table.

Amaya took in some shallow gulps of air, slowly calming herself down from the adrenaline that had had for that one split second shot through her. Hiroto was observing her, dull eyes the colour of yellow autumn leaves unduly concerned as she tended to be. Amaya curled the corners of her lips in disdain at her cousin's weakness, at her beauty, and finally at her hypocrisy.

Finally, Hiroto decided to keep that topic for another day, and swiftly changed it to the rumours she'd recently been hearing about some new talent in the modeling business who was from the same agency from her. Amaya finished her drink over the course of the far too in-depth conversation, bleakly wondering whether that poor girl even knew what was said about her behind her back.

She found herself visiting the hospital again once her obligatory visit to Hiroto had been finished. Shiori accepted her presence with a warmth Amaya could only distantly remember had once been inside her own house, and that for only those limited months just after her father had died. Amaya supposed that even a woman like Tsubari got lonely sometimes, no matter how black her heart seemed.

It was a bit of a surprise to see Shuuichi there, though, as she'd been able to avoid his presence ever since she'd confessed to him about the most secret wish she held close to her heart. He sat at his mother's bedside, his long hair as pristine as always, and he responded to Amaya's unexpected presence with unneeded delight which lit up his whole face.

It was bad enough that his delight had only been capable of sharpening the already fine lines of his face rather than softening them, which somehow made him even more attractive than he'd already been. That was already bad enough, but Amaya could also see Shiori observe her son's reaction to her and begin to manifest an assumption that could never be. She ignored the disappointment weigh down the pit of her stomach and returned Shuuichi's smile with one of her own.

Finally, it was Shiori who broke the silence to air the conclusion she had come to. "Do you two perhaps know each other?" her voice had taken on a hopeful and halfway suggestive lilt.  
"She's a friend, mother," Shuuichi replied with a light laugh, but didn't bother directly refuting what exactly his mother was implying.

"We really have only been associating the day before our meeting," Amaya backed him up, her nails digging into the sides of her chair. The whole room smelled of antiseptic and the window had been uncovered to let in the late afternoon sunlight. Nevertheless, despite all this, she was starting to feel remarkably claustrophobic. Shiori and Shuuichi didn't even look as if they were related.

"We're in the same club," Shuuichi needlessly added, smoothing down the covers from the section of the bed that he could reach. Her gaze followed his fingers on their way, remembering the firmness of his hand, remembering how her own had clamped around his collar not that long ago. She flushed in shame, lashes fluttering erratically as she blinked and broke eye-contact with his mother to stare at the birds flying outside of the window.

"Ara, you like to garden as well, Amaya?" Shiori interrupted, quite pleasantly surprise. Her voice was frail and rather more quiet than Amaya was used to, but that was nice, once in a while. She drummed her fingers against the wooden plateau of her chair, which was stationed closer to Shuuchi than Shiori in her bed.  
"Yes, it calms me down," she admitted almost reluctantly, because that was implying that she had something to calm down for.

"The work _is _soothing," Shuuichi agreed readily enough, and blinked very slowly and very deliberately, catching Amaya's eye. "It's nice too that no matter how old a plant gets, it stays immeasurably elegant." Was he suggesting to Amaya to turn herself into a plant? She caught her breath before she could burst out into pride defying giggles, bringing a sleeve to her lips to cover a genuine smile.

The line of his shoulders relaxed at the physical evidence of her appreciation, however well masked. Amaya knew that he didn't have to see her face to pinpoint with incredible accuracy what emotion she was in the throws of feeling. It was perplexing that someone like him could have so few friends at his school, when he could measure those around him so well. A fanbase, perhaps, but no friends.

Still, though, the suggestion, however said in jest, wasn't even correct. She'd seen countless of rotten leaves and shrubbery which had been stamped to death beneath her feet. Such easy, careless morality was even more terrifying to her than growing old and losing all of her mental faculties.

Shiori clapped her hands together. "That's great. Actually, Shuuichi here was just telling me about one of his favourite plants." She turned towards her son. "What was it called again?" Amaya found herself jealous, though for this one time it wasn't jealousy aimed towards his sharp beauty. Shiori's eyes were filled with appreciation for Shuuichi and for him to speak to her about what he loved.

In her own home, she'd been long ago convinced that what she loved held absolutely no importance to anyone but her.

Shuuichi moved his hands away from the quilt, so one was swinging aimlessly at his side and the other he folded primly upon his lap. "The _Dionaea muscipula, _or Venus flytrap." He absently recited, his gaze aimed at a spot above his mother's head. His smile changed, becoming something with a serrated edge. "It's my favourite because of it's pure white flowers, which attracts any prey unfortunate enough to cross it's path."

There was a moment's of silence as Amaya processed this. He then shook his head, as if shaking the cobwebs from his mind. "Let's talk about something else, shall we?" His lips softened into a thin and neutral line as if something had displeased him. Amaya stared at him from the thin distance stretching in between them, before shaking her head and taking a look outside of the window at how low the sun lay.

She stood up, turning an apologetic expression towards Shiori. "I'm sorry, but my mother is expecting me," eventhough the woman didn't even care for her, she did care if Amaya arrived at a later date than had been discussed. Amaya bowed towards the women in the bed as she excused her rather abrupt departure.

"I will be seeing you tomorrow at the club?" Shuuichi asked, just before she left the room. Her fingers froze around the door handle and she gave him a distant nod. She rather hoped that he wouldn't continue with that rather creepy treatment that he'd been doing. She left, closing the door behind her with an air of finality, and inhaled the decaying hospital air. She'd better hurry; she only had a bit more than ten minutes.

A/N thanks for reviewing, for the favourites, and for following.


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